The Thunderbolt
by CMW2
Summary: SEMI-WIP- EXPLANATION IN CHAPTER 2's A/N:In 1st The Godfather book and movie, there is an old Sicilian saying for love-lust at first sight for a woman: 'being hit with The Thunderbolt'. This fic shows what happens when while abroad, the Thunderbolt strikes both Olivia Pope and Fitz Grant III;Rated for language, spice, and everything nice;1st in my 2014 SSS Project.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey, y'all. It's 2014 now and I managed to get through 2013 without getting hospitalized, charged with a felony, or pregnant. That's a solid WIN in my book and I hope you all out there had a good, safe time out there. To officially kick off SSS 2014 and to follow a prompt given by a good friend, here's an Olitz meeting abroad, smut with substance fic for your enjoyment. **

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

As soon as their eyes met, it was like everything slowed to a crawl. Her full parted lips were stained with fresh grape juice from the kitchen. Her long hair was a halo of onyx coils and her skin…he had never seen such soft looking skin before, the milk chocolate calling to his fingertips. Keeping doe like eyes on him watchfully, she filled her plate with antipasti and bread, grabbing an apple on her way back inside. She wore a gray midsleeved top with white stripes, a black maxi skirt, and was barefoot, her toes painted orange with red detail. Forcing himself to look away, he quietly asked what her name was. The Inn's owner, his **_Nona_** Naomi smiled and replied in her Sicilian accented English.

"Olivia Pope."

Absorbing that, he watched as her hair flew behind her in the upper passageway, wondering how it felt, how it smelled. He wanted to touch her.

Most of all, Fitz Grant III wanted to hear her voice and the intelligence that her gaze held.

_**/**_

As soon as her lunch was safely on the dresser, her knees gave out. She slumped heavily against the wood of her hastily closed door and sighed, still feeling those eyes on her. Olivia Pope was no stranger to the appraisal of men nor was she a stranger to feeling desire but his eyes…god, his _**eyes**_. They were shades of gray and blue, cerulean like the nearby sea and slate like weathered stone. He was tall, near giant in comparison to her and even through his clothes, a simple white t-shirt and dark wash jeans, she knew that he was made of solid, lean muscle.

Of course, she recognized him. Everyone knew who the Grants were and Naomi had shown her many pictures of her grandson. Fitzgerald III had been engaged to Millicent Vaughn but it had fallen apart abruptly almost a year ago. No one really knew what happened or rather, no one wanted to say. The blueblood heiress was now 5 months pregnant and firmly attached to, of all people, Edison Davis. When she had ended their stagnant relationship before her departure, she had an inkling that he was being unfaithful. Her Gut had roiled in warning from the start, and now it seemed like it had been justified. A feeling of sympathy filled her in behalf of Fitzgerald. Being cheated on and lied to was terrible and spirit breaking. And it was always worse when the guy was the one left behind because the sharks would sense blood in the water. _Your girl left you? Your girl cheated on you? Damn, man. You must've been a jerk. You weren't? Well, maybe you just weren't hitting it right, then_…plus, Big Jerry Grant had been very vocal in his disapproval of his son's actions in ending the engagement, the seasoned California politican essentially choosing Millicent over his own familial blood.

No wonder he had left America.

A soft tap at the door made her stand up and open it to a softly smiling Naomi, who was holding a tall glass of peach iced tea for her. Weakly, she smiled back and accepted it, sitting down on her bed. It was a queen sized pillow top bed with a solid oak frame, covered by a handmade patchwork quilt and many plush pillows. Olivia, who had become used to sleeping in hostel bunks and in her sleeping bag amongst other travelers, appreciated the comfort and the privacy of her room.

The inn had been converted from an old villa, small and private without being too expensive. Each room had a feeling of warmth, of history, and although she had only been in the area for a fortnight, Olivia was already on her third sketchbook. Her latest Corcoran portfolio would be full of ruins, marketplace action, sea life, and various wildflowers in the countryside. She had always loved wildflowers…

Fitzgerald's gaze had also been the color of cornflowers.

"He's a good boy, my Fitzgerald. Thankfully, he got his mother's good nature and strong spirit. Felicity was always so warm, so bright, so loving…how she ended up with a selfish swine like Big Jerry still baffles me to this day."

"Maybe he has redeeming qualities that few people get to see."

"Mmph… he asked for your name after you left. And he was watching you run away like a spooked baby deer."

She blushed and looked away.

"I didn't mean to run. It's just…when he looked at me, I felt…warm. Branded but without pain. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and everything seemed to just stand still. All I could think of was him touching me and I…"

"It frightened you."

Olivia nodded and drank her tea, sure to put the glass on one of the ceramic coasters. It had been like a magnetic pull. His gaze was intense but not predatory. There was desire but a deep curiosity, too. He found her interesting. After it became clear that she wasn't going to sleep with them or that she wasn't going to dial back her personality to keep him around (another reason why Edison was her ex), men her age pretty much ignored her or talked about her with disdain. _Ice Bitch, Bougie Brainiac, the closest __**she **__probably gets to a good fuck is looking at those naked dude statues in museums…_

"He would never hurt a woman, Olivia. Nor would he disrespect one."

"I get that. I'm just…overwhelmed. I've never felt that sort of attraction before."

"You,**_ mia bella_**, have been hit with the Thunderbolt."

"Isn't that from **The Godfather**?"

"Yes, it is but many of the details that went into the creation of the novel and movie were based in fact. The Thunderbolt is quite real and it can be very potent. In the wrong hands and people, it has started wars and broken up families. On the other hand, it can be the starting point to something beautiful. Some of the best relationships I've experienced and witnessed started with The Thunderbolt, including the one that eventually led to my Felicity and your Fitzgerald."

"He's not mine, Naomi.", Olivia protested with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Not yet, anyway.", she replied with a playful waggle of her brows.

_**/**_

"Hi, Fitzgerald."

"Hi. I'm sorry if I scared you earlier."

"It's okay. Naomi mentioned you were in the area but she had been expecting you to visit towards the end of the week after I left."

"Well, I'm glad I decided to come see her early. I wouldn't have met you otherwise, Olivia. Oh, and please call me Fitz. Fitzgerald reminds me too much of my father, pretentious and stuffy."

She chuckled and nodded, taking residence in the cranberry red bowl chair in the corner. Out came a sketchbook and a pink clay cylinder of various pencils was placed on the low table next to her. Her gaze locked on a large vase filled with fully bloomed pink, red, and white roses and she began to work quietly.

His_** nona**_ had filled him in on what she knew of her. She was Eli Pope's daughter. The curator was one of his father's main contacts in DC when it came to art and artifacts for the Compound and he remembered meeting the man. And being promptly dismissed by him as a carbon copy of his father in training. The man had never said anything to him directly but he had a way of radiating disapproval that made Fitz wonder if Olivia's upbringing was happy. He doubted it, especially after her mother, Maya Lewis perished in a plane crash when she was 12.

Fitz's mother, Felicity Giametta-Grant had passed away from ovarian cancer when he was 13.

The pain never went away.

Olivia was a 3rd year art student at Corcoran, spending the summer break traveling through the Mediterranean, drawing what she saw and perfecting her craft. And his **_nona_** was all too pleased to report that she was single, pleasantly surprising him. Olivia was intelligent, articulate, creative, and absolutely gorgeous. All that with her obvious humility pretty much guaranteed that she had someone special in her life. But, she really was single and had been hurt before, particularly by Millicent's new beau.

More power to him, Fitz decided. Edison Davis' folly had brought him into Olivia's orbit and no matter what happened between them, he was grateful. Fitz would be transferring to Georgetown to take the Bar and put distance between him and Big Jerry come fall. Maybe if they hit it off, he could ask Olivia on a date…

The rhythmic scratching of her pencils stopped, along with the sound of shading and he sat up in the hammock to meet her gaze.

"I want to go swimming. Would you like to join me?", she asked softly, as if she expected a rejection.

"Sure.", he replied calmly, even as his heart pounded in his ears.

_**/**_

"I remember this spot. I used to bring my mother flowers from here every time we visited. She loved wildflowers."

"There's so much beauty here. I want to draw everything I see but there's only so many hours in a day. How old are you?"

"I just turned 28. You?"

"I'm 22."

"Ooh, jail bait. How fun."

"I'd rather be jail bait than a dirty old man."

"As far as I'm concerned, one doesn't get old until they're at least 70 and even then, age is more about how you are on the inside than on the out. And I'm not turning 30 for another 2 years."

"2 years can go by in a snap, Fitz."

"Make fun all you want, lil' whippersnapper."

"I will.", she promised brightly.

"You're actually quite mean. You're a mean little thing.", he declared with an exaggerated pout.

Olivia shrugged unrepentantly and matter of factly undid her white bikini top, keeping her back to him. Feeling that intent gaze on her again, she boldly untied her bottoms, leaving her nude in the small pond. It was a secluded spot, surrounded by many types of rocks and leafy plants. Taking down her hair, she went under the surface, feeling just as comfortable in the water as she would on land. Fitz hadn't moved from his spot except to shift on his feet and she swam to his legs, appreciative of the full definition his body had. Most men overworked their upper bodies while neglecting the lower, resulting in chicken legs. Not Fitz. He took good care of himself all over and it showed.

Maybe he'd let her draw him later…they could paint each other, on each other with some of the edible paints she had impulsively picked up in Athens…

Surfacing smoothly, she peeked up at him through her lashes, floating well within his personal bubble. His jaw clenched and she followed the motion of his Adam's apple with her eyes. He was a big man and delightfully hairy, not too much nor too little. Reaching forward, she gently raked her blunt nails over the center of his chest and goosebumps immediately rose in their wake. The tip of his tongue darted over his lower lip as she hooked her thumbs in the tops of his black trunks, meeting his gaze questioningly. His hands went over on top of hers and pushed downward, removing the trunks. Collecting their floating swim wear, she laid them on a nearby flat rock to sun dry and he followed her, coming up behind her but not touching her. She liked that. Most men would've immediately interpreted her actions as consent but it was clear that Fitz wanted and needed words from her before he took her, before he made love to her.

And she wanted him to take her. She wanted him to make love to her. Very, very badly.

"Touch me."

_**/**_

Her breathy gasp of delight as his hands closed over her breasts made the fire in his groin burn brighter. She had surprised him. Their initial meeting had shown that she was shy, skittish even but the way she had taken off her suit, the way she looked at him with such desire was anything but shy. Fitz could feel his body yelling, urging him to thrust into her and possess her inside and out but he stayed measured. This was their first time and it was going to be good for both of them, tender and slow.

They could be hard and rough later.

Olivia whimpered in protest as he turned her around and moaned with rapture as he kissed her passionately, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of grapes, fresh honey, and sunshine, intoxicating to his senses. Her own tongue advanced forward and engaged his in a slow dance. Sliding his hands over her luscious ass, he hoisted her up against him and she wrapped her strong legs around him as he pressed her back to the grassy, slightly muddy shore. Her upper body was free of the water and he followed the sparkling trails of water with his lips and tongue, licking up the fresh water and the freshness of her skin. Her fingers weren't idle. They ran through his hair, over his shoulders, skimmed his sides (causing him to squirm, since he was ticklish), and her right hand boldly squeezed one of his buttocks, pleased at the firmness found. Grabbing both her wrists, he put her hands next to her head, looming over her in a clear display of dominance. Instead of shying away or struggling, she relaxed and even stuck her tongue out at him playfully, making him laugh out loud.

Smiling encouragingly, she aligned their lower halves and nodded, brushing her sex against his to make his head swim…a thin sliver of rationality remained.

"Protection?", he asked gently stroking her wrists.

He had no problem stopping, waiting if necessary.

Olivia was worth waiting eons for.

"The IUD was originally put in for my cycle but apparently, it also has other much more pleasant uses. Who knew?", she replied cheekily, making him laugh again.

The issue settled, he allowed Olivia to pull him in and Fitz shuddered in delight at the feel of her. Her silky walls expanded and contracted around each inch of him welcomely, flooding around him with her hot sticky nectar. God, he wanted to taste her. Would she let him taste her? If she were even a fraction as sweet inside as he imagined, he was very happily done for. She panted and shivered, whimpering as she took him to the hilt. Her whimpers weren't of pain but growing bliss and impatience for him to move inside her. Fitz rolled his hips slowly and a low rumbling purr escaped his lover, causing him to thrust into her **hard**.

"_**Yes!**_"

_**/**_

Each impact of their hips had Olivia reeling, her entire vocabulary reduced to syllables and cries that grew louder as time passed. Her right leg was over his shoulder and although his hands had returned to her body, she kept her wrists up submissively, allowing him full reign over her heated body. Fitz's face was the picture of sexual satisfaction, along with an Alphaness that made her quiver inside. She felt possessed and wanted and…**safe**. Even as his hips pounded, even as he growled against her straining nipples as he sucked them, she knew that Fitz would not hurt her.

"…_so damned good…fucking amazing, Livvie… so wet and tight…you were made for me… you take me so well, so hungrily..you were waiting for me, weren't you...you knew that this sweet little pussy was mine, didn't you?_", he purred in her ear as he slowed down to a deep, slow grind, releasing her leg to wrap back around his waist needily.

"_**Mmmm**_…"she moaned in response to his filthy interrogation and praise, squeezing it around him as hard as she could to make him shout. She suckled at his lower ear and looked at him with faux coyness as their eyes met again.

"…_**bad **__girl…should take you over my knee for that, you mean little thing_…", he wheezed laughingly.

A shudder went through her at the image of his hand impacting her ass and she could feel herself grow wetter, ripple faster. She never considered doing that sort of thing with Edison, exploring some of her long standing fantasies but Fitz…Fitz was different. So, so delightfully different…

"_Tonight?_", she requested seriously, causing him to look at her incredulously before his nostrils flared.

His response to her plea was a thrust harsher than all the ones before and Olivia shattered with a shuddering scream, his name belted out into the countryside as electricity surged through her nerves. Fitz cried out in ecstatic pain as her inner walls spasmed around him and his mouth fell open in a long groan of ecstasy that became a hard grunt as his hot seed began to flood her. She thrust up against him, taking everything he had to give her with relish and her head fell back heavily into the grass as she cooed, spent and turned all the way out.

She made a mental memo to send Millicent Vaughn a thank you card and flowers. Her loss was certainly her gain…

Fitz eased them out of the water and stretched out over her in a tender embrace, as shameless in his nudity as she was. They were surrounded by wildflowers and she wrapped her arms around him, slowly floating down from her high with him.

"…_**mine**_.", she declared as she started stroking his hair, prompting purrs of his own.

"…_yours._", he agreed. "_Mine_?"

"_Yours._", she assured him.

"_**Mmmm**_…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey, everyone. Okay, I know that it said 'complete' up top and I'm leaving it that way in spirit because t****his one is and isn't a WIP. Whatever I come up with will be interconnected and there will be a Plot but this is gonna be more of a fic that I turn to when I'm stuck in my drafting for **_**Shattering**_** and **_**Loose**_** or when I end up particularly pissed off at a new canon development (kick in the balls) when it comes to Olitz. It's like when I wrote '**_**You. Are. Mine!**_**' but within an AU-verse without the Creeper.**

**PS: There's some jam in this one, both the food and the Olitz kind! I found the instructions and basic ingredients for the food via Google. The links will be available on my Tumblr if you're interested in the technique.**

**Disclaimer: Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**The next morning…**

"…_oh, my god, you got laid!_", Abby Whelan cheered through the phone line.

"Ab-_**by**_…"

"_Don't you 'Ab-__**by**__' me, little woman! I know laid when I hear it and you got it good! You've got the sexy rasp and everything! What 's his name? Is he American? Was he cute? Does he have a brother?_"

"_**Hey!**_", David Rosen protested indignantly.

"_I'm just kidding on that last one, David…no, for serious…you got laid! I'm so happy for you, Liv because it's been forever plus the lost Huxtable child __**looked**__ like he couldn't find a clit even if it sparkled and glowed in the dark_…"

Olivia couldn't help but laugh at her best friend's crass yet accurate statement and she continued cleaning out the large bowl the raspberries had been in. The inn had acres of orchard and gardens at its disposal, a portion of the crops sold to local businesses, and while searching for tea, she had found a large box of fruit pectin, along with canning equipment. Naomi had been more than happy to give her permission to harvest and Olivia promised to leave a jam sampler as part of her payment. She would make batches of raspberry, blackberry-apricot, blueberry, and her personal favorite, strawberry. She had harvested and froze the fruit she needed. Afterwards, she had gone into town to pick up a large bag of sugar and fresh lemons for the juice she would need. She had been making jam for the last few days and it added to the relaxation being in the Inn brought her, her creative juices flowing better than ever before.

Or maybe that last fact had more to do with her still sleeping new lover than making jam.

After spending a wonderful evening with Fitz (her ass still throbbed pleasantly), she had gotten up around midnight and set about the task. All she had left to do was the raspberry. Everything else was ready to be used and stored safely. Ooh, maybe she could make him breakfast in bed…yes, that would be nice…

"Take me off of speakerphone so the King of Shade doesn't throw up and then we'll talk."

"_Thank you, Olivia!_"

"_Get out of here, David._"

"_Are you seriously kicking me out of my own bed at 1AM?_"

"_Yes, yes, I am. It's like 6 in the morning her time so it balances out. Scram. Close the door behind you…okay, he's gone. Dish. Now._"

"It was with Naomi's grandson. His name is Fitz Grant III."

"_As in the California Senator's son? Good job, Liv. He's sexy as fuck._"

"I thought you hated Republicans and anyone from the loins of one.", she remarked pointedly.

"_I do but I'm not blind. That man is foxy and probably more than eager to get some and break a real woman off. From what I've heard, his ex hoarded her cookies like gold and they were icy, stale, and moldy._"

"Wow. Who gave you that Intel?"

"_You know that DC housewives have nothing better to do than to gorge themselves on my pastries, marathon shop at Donna Karen, and gossip maliciously about each other and potential newcomers. Plus, one of David's lawyer friend's girlfriend is frenemies with the bitch and she's just…ugh, __**nope**__. Imagine if the Wicked Stepsisters were merged into that obnoxious cow from_ **Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion **_and you've got Mellie Vaughn dead to rights._"

Oh, dear god! The _**horror**_…

"Jinkies. It seems like Fitz dodged a bigger bullet than I thought. Fuck, he dodged an A-Bomb. Poor Edison…"

"_Poor Edison, my ass! He deserves all the suffering he gets for being such a tool to you._"

Olivia was inclined to agree. Edison Davis was a man with big ambitions, a Senator's seat at the minimum and a seat behind the Resolute at the pinnacle. He was driven, reasonably attractive and deeply intelligent, which had drawn her to him in the first place. There was kindness in him, genuine good in him. Unfortunately, as time passed, he started trying to 'guide' her. He'd drop hints that she was wasting her time and potential with her art, saying how the black community could use more sharp female minds representing in politics, which was true but her passion, her drive was in her art. She wasn't neutral but she was staunchly apolitical, preferring to avoid the infighting and backstabbing party lines caused. Besides, politics was a big part of her father's makeup and she wanted to be the man's polar opposite in every possible way.

Art had been there for her when she was all alone, left behind by death and sent to the furthest reaches by her father. Edison's words reflected Eli's to a near mirror and she had fought him tooth and nail, eventually winning with the aid of top ranked work for her age group and a torrent of acceptance letters from art schools all over the world. She still remembered when Eli actually asked her, not ordered her, to stay near the DC area. For the first time in a long time, she had seen her father as her Daddy, not as a tyrant or the anonymous benefactor he had become after her mother's death. He had asked her to stay close, if not for the sake of their relationship, then for the sake of her mother's wishes. She would've wanted her to stay close to home, which had her biting back the pointed question of when he started caring about her mother's wishes when it came to her but…still, he had _**asked**_.

Of course, she had already decided on Corcoran by then but she'd let him claim a victory if he wanted to.

Anyway, when Edison realized that she would not be budged, he had started trying to pick at her self esteem and worth. He had bought her a gym membership as a surprise, knowing full well that she already swam and did yoga. Olivia had returned it and spent the full refund on new palettes and pencils, folding the receipts into a small flock of cranes. And then, she had brought him to her bikram yoga class on that Saturday morning, grinning inwardly at each hiss of pain and every correction Vishnu patiently guided him through as he sweated like a pig.

Edison never said anything else about the subject again and winced every time he saw her yoga mat.

A couple of months after that sterling example of unconditional love, he had mentioned that her wardrobe could use a little sprucing up before he could bring her to dinner with his visiting parents, disregarding the fact that she had made plans with her friends that Friday night. They could always reschedule, right? After all, it wasn't like they were going anywhere fast. And her wardrobe was decent but kind of bland and masculine. It could be more exciting and feminine…

The insult towards her friends and disrespect of her autonomy had been the main motivation for her response. It had been one of her finest moments, actually.

Using some of her savings, she had gone on a mini shopping spree via Sinister Soles and Rebel Circus. She had entered the swank restaurant in a lacy white corset top, a borrowed knee length blood red pencil skirt, black fishnets, and a pair of black heels with white skulls on it, red bows on top. She had teased her natural hair wild and painted her lips a deep rich maroon. Edison had nearly choked to death on his tiramisu when he saw her and when he demanded an explanation, both for her look and the fact that she was over an hour late, Olivia had happily replied that his advice had been sound. Her new wardrobe was much more exciting and feminine now, didn't he think so?

Two glasses of mineral water, 20 minutes of stilted conversation with his mother (and ignoring the lingering looks his father kept giving her cleavage), and a '**we're waiting at Gettysburger with tickets to see _Silver Linings Playbook_**' text later, she was gone, ignoring him as she practically skipped to the valet, point made.

Edison had maturely cut off all communication with her for almost 2 weeks in response. Eventually, he showed up with a small bouquet of pink carnations and an obviously rehearsed apology after spotting her looking happier than ever at a Alpha Kappa Omega bonfire and ultimate frisbee extravaganza. What had he expected, really? She wasn't one for unnecessary sadness, especially if she was in the right.

Still, that had signaled the official death knell for them. Relationships weren't supposed to be an ongoing battle. Arguments were normal, as were working through them but what she and Edison had been reduced to was like one of those insipid sitcom couples who had no business staying together after the clothes came off. And as Abby mentioned before, taking the clothes off was far more trouble than it was worth. At least if she took matters into her own hands, she'd be satisfied for sure and wouldn't have to put up with snoring or people trying to move into her space like it was a right, not a privilege.

No more games and dicking around. Edison simply had to go.

So, 8 days before she left for Europe, she had called Edison to a public place and ended it for good, handing him a box full of what little he had managed to get past her defenses. Despite their being in public, he had tried to make a scene but she had kept calm and resolute until he yielded begrudgingly. They weren't working. They both deserved better than what the other was giving and maybe in a future far down the line, they could be friends. Romantically and sexually, they were **done**. She hoped that he would find what he wanted and joy with someone great…

"Okay, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't enjoying the karma of it all. And who knows, maybe Mellie has redeeming qualities and warmth that she was holding back in search of the right person."

"_So, not only did you get laid over there, you've taken up fiction writing?_"

Olivia opened the last mason jars and cracked up again, shaking her head. Abby's utter and complete lack of filter sometimes led to trouble but it was also refreshing. People overthought every little action and word when sometimes, shit just needed to fly and things needed to be said. Abby could always be depended on to do the task…

After doing the frozen spoon test and finding the concoction to her liking, Olivia filled the jars carefully and sealed them, putting them into a water bath canner. Lidding it, she crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out one of the jars of strawberry jam. Placing it on the counter, she pulled a bread knife out of the chopping block and put a loaf of crusty bread down, baked yesterday. Slicing a couple of thick slices, she hopped up on the counter and popped open the jar. Delicious…almost as much as Fitz had been the day and night before…

"_So, tell me about it. Where did it happen?_", Abby asked eagerly.

"Remember that pond I told you about and put a black and white drawing of on my Instagram?"

"_Ooh, nice. Did he suggest going for a swim?_"

"Actually, I did. And I'm the one who turned it into skinny dipping, too. It was very Lifetime movie island girl of me, too. Top shelf work."

"…_you can't see it but I'm smiling like a damned fool, right now. I'm so proud of you for fully embracing your inner freak bitch. You'll never go back now. I'm a proud mama_…"

"Stuff it, Gingersnap. Or rather, you could have David stuff it."

"_Indeed I could…let's get to the real. How big is he?_"

"**Big.**", she replied bluntly.

"_**How **__big?_"

"I woke up waddling and wobbly kneed… Abby, it's been hours but I swear I can still feel him in me."

"Oh, really?", a sleep husked baritone inquired slowly from the doorway.

"_Holy shit, he __**sounds**__ like sex! How can someone sound like sex? What __**is**__ that?_"

If Abby thought he sounded like sex, it was nothing compared to how he actually looked. Fitz had pulled on a pair of dark purple drawstring sweats and they rode dangerously low on his hips. Olivia's eyes went over his exposed sculpted torso and remembered tracing the defined lines with her tongue, remembered the husky groan of bliss as she wrapped her lips around his throbbing erection, wanting to both inflame and soothe him.

A flare of heat blossomed in her lower belly as her appraisal lingered on his left hand, the hand that had held her down by the scruff of her neck as his right hand alternated between spanking and fingering her until she was a quivering mass of heated nerve endings. Looking up from there, she looked at his lips, her senses flooding with the taste of them, the feel of them and his hot tongue between her legs. Although the walls were thick and Naomi slept on the other side of the villa, she tried to bite down on a pillow to muffle her passionate noises. Fitz wasn't having any of that. He had licked her, kissed her, and suckled her without mercy until she was screaming hard. She had tried to squirm away and he held her captive, resulting in the scratches she saw on his shoulders and the utter disarray of his hair.

"Good morning, Livvie."

"Hi. I...um, Abby? I have to go now."

"_Yeah, you do. Get some more of that. I'm gonna go jump David on the couch, now. Call again soon._"

Removing her bluetooth and placing the phone back on the charger, she looked down at her toes. His legs came into her line of vision and gently, he raised her head into a soft, sweet kiss. Leaving her bra off, she had put on a forest green tank top and a pair of faded Hello Kitty sleep shorts sans panties, pink ankle socks on her feet. Olivia moaned and pressed closer to him on the counter, prompting him to lean forward on one of his hands to deepen the kiss. Shivering, she looked up at him hotly and he eased them back upright, keeping her close.

"The only thing keeping me from taking you on this counter right now is the fact that you're cooking."

"Water canning, actually and you're just gonna disregard the fact that your **_nona _**could come in at any second?"

"You and I both know that she was playing matchmaker yesterday."

"I know, Fitz but this is still her house and I don't want to disrespect it."

"In order to disrespect it, you'd have to be the first woman to be taken on that counter, **_mia bella_**. Believe me, I beat you to that decades ago.", Naomi corrected cheerfully as she put her silver hair into a ponytail.

Olivia was seized with giggles at the horrified look on Fitz's face and the speed at which he backed away from both of them.

"Oh, don't be so prudish, Fitzgerald. Lovemaking is a beautiful thing, as is passion. That doesn't end just because age sets in. Olivia, I've got this. You two young ones find something to occupy yourselves, hmm?"

Snorting a little, Olivia hopped off of the counter and after grabbing the jar of jam along with a spoon, led him out of the kitchen. Wanting to help erase images out of his head that obviously disturbed him, she put a little extra sway in her gait. It seemed to work perfectly because soon, he had her pressed full length against the wall, kissing the nape of her neck. She rolled her hips back against his, prompting his to move in a phantom what he did to her last night.

His hand covered her trembling abdomen, massaging gently as they rocked together.

"_Are you sore today, sweetheart? I heard what you said to your friend_…"

"_Only a little. It's worth it, though. We should get out of the hallway._"

Fitz nodded in agreement and took the leading role, putting them behind closed doors in his bedroom. It was double the size of her room with an attached balcony and clean without being sterile. A black military duffel and a dark blue backpack laid on the trunk at the foot of his bed and she saw an open, multicolored highlighted textbook on the oak desk. Crossing to the bed, she set the jam down on the nightstand and turned around just in time to fall backwards onto the bed as Fitz came after her. Olivia crooned her contentment as his fingers played with her budded nipples through the fabric and raised her arms for him to take it off. The sleep shorts joined it on the floor and he moved her to the middle of the bed, sitting up on his knees between her spread legs. With shaking fingers, she stroked up his body, looking up at him with need and trust.

"Hold still and close your eyes."

Her eyes slid shut immediately and she listened as the jar was picked up, the clink of the spoon going inside.

"Open."

She accepted the spoonful and felt the usual bit of pride as the strawberry flavor exploded on her tongue. Her mother had taught her how to make jams and preserves before she passed away, hours spent at the task while Eli was away on business or working late at the Smithsonian. After her death and the boarding schools began, she had stopped, bereft of time and too hurt to do it.

It was only after she shared the skill during a game of '2 Truths and a Lie' during an 'icebreaker' game Freshman year of college that she picked it up again and perfected it.

The clink of the spoon sounded again and an approving hum escaped him as he tasted.

"You made this?"

"Yes. There are other kinds downstairs, if you're interested."

"Later. Right now, I want breakfast."

The spoon was set down on the nightstand and she gasped as his jam coated fingertips caressed her breasts, her trembling abdomen, the flare of her hips…

"Arms up, Livvie. Don't move them until I say."

Feeling herself began to liquify, she did so, shivering at the sound of his pants coming off.

"Do you know what a safe word is, sweetheart?"

"Yes."

"Pick one."

"Liberty.", she responded promptly.

"I should've asked you this last night. You were saying 'yes' but…"

"It's okay. I knew…I knew that you wouldn't hurt me more than I wanted. You're the first person I…I mean, I've wanted to but…can I open my eyes? I need to look at you to explain this."

"Yes. Keep still, though."

There was no judgement in his eyes and she smiled at him before beginning.

"I've always been a curious person about everything. After the first reproductive health classes started, I had the mechanics down and some of the older girls used to talk about what they did with their boyfriends or claimed they did. I remember a couple of girls who plagiarized a Harlequin book and they got called out hard for it. They transferred schools and everything. Anyway, one of my dorm mates in my last boarding school had this book hidden in the bottom of her dresser that she'd study every night. She wouldn't let any of the other girls see and we all knew that it wasn't for the curriculum. The night before summer break, I flat out asked her what it was. Keep in mind that she was 17 and I was 15 at the time and Selena…she was tough. _**Nobody**_ fucked with her or questioned her, not even the instructors."

"Brave."

"Curious to the point of taking an ass kicking if it meant I got answers, more like it. But, I guess she liked me or my balls because she just took it out and told me that I better bring it back intact or have the money to replace it or she'd slam my face into the big magnets in the science lab first day of term."

"Magnets?"

"I had braces."

"Oh. What was the book?"

"_**Screw the Roses, Send me the Thorns**_ by Phillip Miller and…"

"Molly Devon. You're telling me that the resident badass chick had a copy of the Magna Carta of S&M in your boarding school dormitory?"

"Hardcover with a Lisa Frank unicorn book cover and a shiny pink ribbon bookmark"

"That's... **_awesome_**.", he chuckled.

"Yeah. Anyway, I read it and a lot of it stuck with me, particularly when they mentioned 'safe, sane, and consensual' and how trust was key to any sort of relationship, especially one with…elements. And I liked the idea of light bondage and spanking and…the point is, my tastes are a blend of vanilla and rocky road and it seems that you're in the same boat so…and…yeah. Liberty's my safe word and I don't do anal. Everything else, including being slathered in my own homemade jam and licked clean for breakfast, is on the table…and if you want, I can be on the table after Naomi goes to bed later. You'll have to gag me somehow but I think it'll…"

She gasped as he took her whole breast into her mouth and suckled deeply.

"The only words I want to hear from you now are sexual. Close your eyes and don't move."

"O-okay…what do I call you?"

"Fitz. We're in this as equals. Eyes shut. **Now.**"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hey, everybody. Apparently, I wasn't alone in my S&M headcanon for Olitz because just about every review/note I've gotten has been a variation of "YASSSS" and "fuckin' FINALLY! Someone wrote this! HELLS. YEA-UH!", which was glorious. Thank you everyone for them and the follows/likes/reblogs. I'm not sure why there's not more fics like this out there but I don't mind filling a niche in the fandom. That makes writing more fun.**

**Now, keep in mind, I have no practical experience with sex (by choice and circumstance) and the closest I've gotten to studying S&M is watching **_**Secretary**_** ( which is a top shelf movie, by the way…)****so those of you who know what you're doing and have experienced the D/s lifestyle in its variations, feel free to give me a little guidance if things seem a little off. And I'm also taking requests for their Scenes. I've got a barrel full of filthy fun ideas in my Hoodie but if there's something that y'all wanna see (that fits in the parameters Liv set at the end of the last chapter), hit me up and I'll see what I can do.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

"You better share any and all the pictures you got last night if you've got 'em. And then you better burn them to a crisp before Rowan gets ahold of copies and goes H.A.M. on both of us."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know full and damned well what I'm talking about, Sparky. It's funny. I've been on Diaper Duty off and on since she went off to big girl school and I never got that **Secretary**, Lee Holloway and E. Edward Gray vibe off of her. It makes a lot of sense, though. Rowan's a sick nasty murderous fuck. Liv-Liv's too sweet and artsy-fartsy for the murderous shit so getting tied up and wailed on until she gushes like a Old Faithful's a good substitute. And damned good spank bank material. You gonna finish that?"

Suppressing an eye roll, Jake Ballard passed the rest of his bowl of rabbit stew to his partner and sighed heavily. Charlie Brown (definitely not his real name) was known in Wonderland for his Fox Mulder like personality and his deep thirst for blood. Other than his duties for B613, he did contracts for big shots all over DC. Murder, torture, extortion, he followed the money and kept his mouth shut, making him nearly indispensable. Rowan didn't mind it. It provided even more leverage within the man's dark empire. Politicians were notoriously pliable and cowardly. Those who weren't usually lost power within months of getting it or ended up in 'accidents'. Anyway, Charlie had joined him while his charge was in Athens and had kept him from being spotted quite a few times.

Olivia Pope may be 'artsy-fartsy' but she was far from stupid. Before Charlie would calmly guide him out of sight, those doe eyes would occasionally drift to him, not in outright recognition but in a look of déjà vu, which was the furthest thing from what he wanted. If she made him, Command would have his head on a platter or his ass in The Hole quick as lightning so he had been very glad to see the veteran operative, even though he had come out of the shower to the demented bastard pointing a "Hello, how you doing today?" gun between his eyes.

Honestly, he had been getting sloppy. Command had put him on the same plane she had gotten on, 8 seats over and he had been drawn to her instantly. Not only was she young and very beautiful, she was articulate and genuinely polite, her art bubbling over with raw talent.

Olivia wasn't afraid of anything, living life a day at a time, open to new experiences. At a death metal concert in Norway, she had been in the thick of the Moshing and the Walls, small but mighty. With nary a blink, she had illegally climbed onto a steep roof in Prague to get 'the perfect view' of an opera performance, drinking rum straight from the bottle and eating Cracker Jack. She had solo bungee jumped multiple times off of a high bridge in Southern Germany, playing in the water like a happy Otter. She had joined up with a group of traveling circus folk 50 miles outside of Rome, spending a fortnight drawing, effortlessly twisting herself into positions that impressed the veteran French contortionists (and heated his blood…) and learning how to breathe fire from a Texan cowboy.

The last night before her departure to Sicily had her tightly bound to a large wooden bulls-eye. A crate full of knives had been thrown at the paint filled balloons surrounding her by a gleeful trio of bear like Russians. She had been in a snow white tank top and runner's shorts, the glow of the fire making her dark skin shimmer like satin. At the time, Jake had dismissed the quick, downright lustful pants that the impact of each knife caused from her as a response to adrenaline but now…he had irrefutable proof otherwise.

Initially, he had been alarmed at the sound of her screams that previous evening, as had Charlie. The both of them had grabbed their guns and quickly went to where her window was ajar, climbing into the trees. Even if it was just a nightmare, they had to check it out. If something happened to Olivia on their watch, there wasn't anywhere deep enough they could hide.

Charlie wasn't the only gun for hire within the ranks of B613 (although he was the best) and even if they got off of Command's grid through some miracle, the bounty on their heads would be too good to pass up, not to mention the prospect of being 'put to pasture': an operative who would actually be let go, left alone to be normal again. Only two dozen had managed to do it, through hard, quality work blended with near senseless loyalty, and they were legendary, an elite group that anyone (even Charlie…) would do anything to join.

Killing the two idiots who allowed Command's daughter to be violated or killed while they were sleeping less than 300 yards away would do it.

As soon as they got a view of what exactly was going on, Charlie had to bite down on his fist to muffle his laughter and shaking his head, he had headed back to camp. Jake had stayed.

Grant had her pinned by the neck and a fistful of her hair as he pounded into her like a beast in heat. Her wrists were tied behind her back via the white silk scarf she occasionally used as a 60s flower child headband. The dim lighting highlighted the red hand prints on Olivia's ass and she was screaming in pleasure not pain as she rammed herself back against him. Her face had been a picture of fulfillment and lust, a deeper kind than had been on her face as they disappeared deep into the countryside that afternoon. Charlie had kept him from following, reading the situation for what it was: the start of a summer fling that would likely cease after she continued her travels. Or would it? After they finally tired themselves out around 9PM, she had happily draped herself over the man and he had immediately held onto her, both of them speaking in low, intimate tones and with laughter…

"Let me give you some free advice, courtesy of your crazy Uncle Chuckie: I've been around the block a few times and shit happens. Some knockout of a broad gets under your skin. Maybe you just want to fuck her or you've actually caught feelings. Who knows? But, it's natural. We're only human, despite our actions to the contrary and it's completely normal, natural. But let me be real with you, Sparky: touching and schtupping Command's daughter unless you're directly ordered to in the name of defending the almighty Republic is nothing but a one-way ticket on the first thing smoking to The Hole or to the Grave. I remember the last Company guy who popped feelings for her. Do you?"

"No."

"_**Exactly.**_ Word around the gun locker is that after The Hole, the poor stupid fuck was shot, put in a crate and sent up the river. Literally. Which was understandable since she was only 15 at the time but still…**nope**. And her boyfriends, what few she allows herself to have because seriously? She's a cat lady in the making…they never stick around long. She usually kicks 'em to the curve after they completely annoy her but I've seen all the contingencies for a real one. Command himself showed them to me and trust me, they ain't pretty, even if he likes the guy. Grant's the luckiest and stupidest son of a bitch alive to be able touch her and he'll learn that soon enough. And since I'm in a good mood, I'm gonna be even more real with you, man. **You're on thin ice.**"

"**_What?_**", Jake gasped, horror making his guts roil.

"I don't know what you did or didn't do but he's seriously pissed at you, man. That's why you got assigned to this round of Diaper Duty in the first place. It's like going back Level 1 of a video game. Back to easy, core basics which you _**so**_ needed because until I got over here, you were fucking up big time. I give it less than a week before she made you and managed to give you the slip. She did that to someone else a couple of years back and again, have you ever heard of them?"

"…_n-no._"

"Fucking A right, n-no. Look, I'm only telling you this because my ass is on the line, too since I'm your partner for this Op. I honestly don't give half of a fuck about you or anyone else I'm forced to dick around with in Wonderland but like I said, you caught me in a good mood. Whatever you've got to do to get her outta your system, even if you have to find yourself a chocolate trick turner with ass for days in town, you do it and do it fast because next time I see what I've been seeing, I'm gonna drug your sorry, horny ass and mail you back to ACME naked in a crate. Am I clear, Sparky?"

"Crystal."

"Copacetic. Now, I already made the morning run and it seems that Grant's decided to have a bit of Pope pussy with his strawberry jam for breakfast so we're gonna chill here and wait for her to move again. I'm sure the old lady's gonna need some more Preparation H or something in town today."

"All right.", he agreed weakly.

"Good chat, Sparky. If you need me, I'll be taking a shit.", he finished cheerfully while grabbing TP and hand sanitizer.

After Charlie disappeared back into the grasses, Jake calmly stood up, went behind the nearest tree, and threw up everything he had managed to keep down in the last 24 hours.

_**/**_

She was trembling underneath him deliciously, her arms up and her eyes squeezed shut. Every suckle, every flick of his tongue over her skin (the jam had licked off long ago) made her whimper or gasp and he could smell her. Olivia's scent wrapped around his senses and squeezed tight, keeping him hard as steel.

"_Open your legs for me, sweetheart._", Fitz urged gently.

After she did so, he raised the strong limbs and started kissing the insides of them, delighted that even though she was obviously ticklish, she was holding still. That meant she also had self control and that self control could and should be rewarded.

"_You can move now, Livvie. Keep your arms up, though. Are they hurting?_"

She shook her head and he nipped her inner thigh hard, making her jump in surprise.

"_**Words**, Olivia. Use your words. Do your arms hurt?_"

"_No…please don't stop…you feel __**so good**__…_"

Her voice took on a dreamy slur as he slid his tongue gently into her and Fitz couldn't help but groan. She was delectable, so soft and silky. Sliding his hands under her bottom, he tilted her closer and she cried out as he started tasting her in earnest. Slow licks made her shiver. Fast licks made her pant. Suckling at her throbbing clit made her keen through her teeth. If he moved his tongue upwards, she bucked and downwards, she groaned. Her lower body rocked as his tongue vigorously explored her tightness, tasting a hint of himself from the night and day before. That spurred him on further, the sheer thought of her walking around with his seed inside her like an adrenaline shot to his id.

He wanted her hands in his hair…

Panting, he moved her arms down and buried her hands in his hair himself. She started massaging his scalp and it took everything he had not to fuck her through the mattress. Jesus, she felt so good…

"_Look at me._"

Her eyes were wild and he pressed soft kisses to her mound, rasping his cheek against the neatly groomed nest of curls that shrouded her.

"_I want you to look at me while I make you come. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?_"

"_**Yes.**_"

She screamed out as he took her clit deep in his mouth, his tongue lapping at it as he sucked hard and the screams increased in pitch as he curled two fingers deep into her. Amazing, intoxicating, warm, responsive, _**real**_…she was real. She had her hidden aspects. Every human did but there was a distinct lack of artifice that fascinated him. All of his life, he had been surrounded by the type of people who put on a mask, a facade, a show. He had been raised to be the same, to keep up appearances and to keep his eye on the Prize, whatever the hell that may be. What happened with Millicent had been the straw that broke the camel's back. He was sick of the fakery, sick of the lies and the omissions, sick of the person that he had became in the name of keeping the peace.

He had packed everything that could be fit into a large military duffel, emptied his bank accounts, and left in the dead of night. He had driven until he ran out of gas and then he had taken the bus to the nearest major city before getting on a plane to Europe. The only person he remained in contact with was Cyrus Beene, an old professor of his and a frenemy to his father. Through online courses and email correspondence, he had kept up with his schooling and started studying for the Bar. He was going to be an attorney specializing in family court cases. He was going to use the infamous Grant charisma for his own purposes, not some Grand Master Plan…

He was going to be his own person, make his own path, and whatever happened, happened…

"_**Fitz!**_"

A feral snarl of exultation escaped him as he returned to her warmth, her walls rippling around him in climax. She shuddered hard and squeezed her eyes shut, prompting his left hand to move to where her jaw and neck met. He could feel the jackrabbit hammer and skip of her pulse as he tilted her head and he pressed a sloppy, rubbing open mouthed kiss to the apple of her right cheek.

"_Look at me…__**look at me**_…"

Not only did she look at him, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, trying to pull him even closer to her. Olivia gasped as he took her deep and slow, grinding hard against her to make her squirm. Grabbing her hips, he guided her in a fluid rhythm and once she picked up on it, he began to add speed, each reconnection of their bodies making her sweet little pussy quiver around him eagerly. Eyes half lidded, she brushed her lips across his tentatively and he responded instantly, deepening the kiss happily. She was so soft, so sweet, so warm…

"_**Mine.**_", he huffed against her lips.

"_**Yours.**_ _Yours, yours, yours_…", she breathed deliriously as her body began to shake from head to toe.

His fingers slipped down against her humid heat, as familiar with it as he was his own body, and touched in that one place would make her…

A noise that was a cross between a scream and purr lurched out of his lover and he screamed into her shoulder, his whole body heaving with each pulse inside her, coating her walls with his essence. Olivia's bent and spread legs wrapped around him with her arms, her whole body going limp underneath him.

"_**Livvie**_…"

"…_so good…god, baby…want to keep you…can I keep you?_"

"_Yes…yours…all yours, Olivia_…"

"_**Mmmmm**_…."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I'm sick. It's not too bad because I'm being proactive in trying to get through it (hacking like an old asthmatic woman, chugging OJ and Tylenol, Cold-eeze is awesome) but yeah…ugh. If you follow me on Tumblr, you already know why I've been gone. If not, the short version of the story is that I got fired in the wake of the 1****st**** Round of the Polar Vortex (why didn't just call it Snownado and quit playing? Polar Vortex? **_**Really?**_**), I drank almost a whole bottle of strawberry Boone's Farm wine on a mostly empty stomach (Big. Ass. Mistake.), had a long overdue crying/ existential fit in my big sister's car, found out I wasn't fired after all while getting my back wages, and all of the stress (plus extended hours of freezing cold darkness outside) triggered a downward spiral in my depression that I haven't experienced since my Freshman year of high school. I needed to step back, take a breath, swear never, ever to drink like that again, and re-evaluate some things in my life. I'm okay now. Honest. I still have my job and I've got a plan for some needed changes so…yeah. I'm okay. I'm in a better place emotionally now which is awesome because having the Plague while being in a dark mental place doth suckith royally. Trust me, I know. Another update for **_**Shattering**_** will be soon.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

People always asked when, where, and how his humanity had died.

It had been a common question from Maya, especially when it came to their child and the fact that she was determined to have her head in the clouds. It had been a common question from concerned and angered associates after Maya's death and Olivia's subsequent departure to the boarding schools. His daughter had demanded an answer during their many clashes when she rarely came home for school breaks, mainly over her art and her stubborn disregard of anyone trying to guide her, even if it was for her own good. It was still a common question amongst his associates and operatives, especially when punishment had to be meted out for incompetence. It was a question that he often asked himself late at night, alone with thoughts and personal demons.

Eli Pope couldn't find an exact watershed moment. There had been many in his 57 years: the death of his parents in a late night house fire at the age of 7, the broad daylight shooting of his shopkeeping grandfather by an angry Klansman, the slow death his grandmother suffered as she was consumed by both alcoholism and the bitterness of taking care of a child that in her eyes, should've died with her daughter. There was his time spent in the Dark Ops circuit and the horrors he had seen and endured in the name of patriotism, only to come home to a free country who still saw him as a second class citizen. A glimmer of warmth returned to his life after he met Maya Lewis, that glimmer turned into a small fire as she gave birth to Olivia Carolyn, the small fire that had been slowly extinguished through the years, to the point of divorce and lost custody on his part. His wife had gotten on that plane bound for London so she could see her attorney friends who would take her case pro-bono. They had never liked him. None of her family liked him. They had seen the void in his eyes, in his spirit…

His humanity had been sacrificed on the altar of life's hard knocks and he honestly didn't miss it. It had left room for his ambitions to grow, to blossom into something great, something better than he ever dared to dream about.

Although Olivia bitterly resented him for sending her to the boarding schools, Eli knew that it was for the best. Maya had been the nurturing parent, the emotionally stable one, the emotionally available one. Eli was all too familiar what could happen to a child raised in an environment without that sort of parental figure and he didn't want that to happen to Olivia. Plus, the boarding schools would expand her horizons, get her used to dealing with people of all sorts in preparation for her future, a future that he had been determined to steer. He was the first African-American man in his position, a position that trumped every single one in the capital and he saw that same potential in his daughter. She would be an invaluable asset as a Chief of Staff, a Director of Communications, a NSA consultant…a POTUS, even. The first, long overdue female and African American Leader of the Free World…

Of course, things hadn't worked out that way and wouldn't seem to be working out that way in the future.

Slowly, Eli scrolled through the web page that Olivia's art was on. It was divided by years starting in 2003, shortly after Maya's death. It had started as art therapy, a way of purging toxic thoughts and emotions so she could grieve properly. The beginning efforts were decidedly dark in nature but showed promise, promise that Eli remembered doing his utmost to stop over the years. He had cut her stipend to 1/3 of its original since he knew she would spend it on art supplies. In response, she had gotten odd jobs during months abroad, saving every nickel and dime so she could buy what she needed herself during the summer break. He had then tried to find her sketchbooks to confiscate them but she had started keeping them and caches of supplies in a network of friends' homes, mainly Abigail Whelan and the boy called Huck's. There was one that she kept with her at all times and he still remembered the one time he had tried to stop her from packing it away in her large bag. The look in her 15 year old eyes when she looked up at him had been very familiar, very dark…and the grip on her steak knife had tightened with intent.

It was then that he had decided to switch to psychological warfare but that had only deepened her resolve to succeed in her chosen vocation, if not just to spite him. In the end, he had eaten crow. There had been 10 acceptance letters left on his home office desk less than a month before she graduated from high school. She had been on her laptop that sunny Friday afternoon, excitedly researching each art institution and making a long pro/con list for each. He had asked, nearly pleaded with her to stay local, and Olivia had readily agreed, settling into Concoran like a duck to water. While the potential for political greatness was still within her, Eli had to admit that she was doing well. She was actually…happy.

As far as he knew, the last time she had been truly happy was shortly before Maya left, a last mother/daughter day in the kitchen making jam and listening to old school soul…

The fact that she had stood her ground over the years was impressive, as was the growing quality of her work. There was talk of gallery showings up in Manhattan, as well as a commission to be on a mural restoration team in the Smithsonian. Eli hoped that she would accept the latter, if not just to have a gift wrapped opportunity to see her.

Lack of humanity and emotional barrenness aside, he was still a father and Olivia was still his only child. He could miss and want to see his only child, could he not?

Following the outside link to her Instagram (**PaintWithAllTheColorsOfTheLiv**), Eli scrolled through the latest snapshots and sketches of her waning time in Europe. She was expected back in the CONUS by her friends at the end of the work week, Sunday at the latest. It appeared that she was content to spend her last travel days in Sicily, her latest art pieces and photos showing the same village landmarks and the interior of a very nice villa.

Eli expanded the latest picture and took it in. Olivia was sitting on top of the kitchen island, laughing and reaching for the camera as if to wrestle it away from the photographer. She had gotten a new dress, long and strappy with an empire waist, deep purple with white polka dots. Her hair was up and twisted, secured by many pencils and…there was a bite mark on her neck. The white silk scarf she had draped over it had slipped, revealing a distinct mark on her neck, human shaped…passionate. Looking closer, he could see another one on her collarbone…

Eli wasn't a stupid man. He knew that Olivia was a grown woman and that she was far from a virgin. He even knew of her…proclivities. While searching for her sketchbooks, he had come across the Lisa Frank covered book deep in her suitcase, opened it to the marked place, and immediately slammed it shut as if he had been burned. When she had returned home that afternoon, he had said nothing, although he had been unable to hide his wince as he saw her reading it in the breakfast nook. When she had asked what was wrong, he had replied that he had a migraine and would be laying down for the night. He had given her money for takeout dinner and permission to go and spend the weekend at Abigail's.

Once she was gone, he had promptly holed himself in his home office with a large bottle of brandy. Eli had taken small comfort in the fact that she had found a good reference for her chosen urges but it was still disturbing. He was well aware of the BDSM lifestyle (what happened overseas stayed overseas…mostly) and he knew that Olivia was at the age of sexual awakening and experimentation but…the negative connotations had just been too much for him. Did his daughter really want that? Why would she enjoy that? What if she ended up with a monster?

Who had bitten her? Who had touched her? Ballard and Brown hadn't given him any indication that she had been seeing anyone over there in their earlier reports. This had to be a recent development…

Exiting the picture (and ignoring the growing comment thread attached to it), he went to the homepage and saw that there was a new top picture. Refreshing the homepage, Eli immediately recognized the boy and the older woman he was hugging from the side. Before her retirement, Naomi Giametta had been a top translator in the diplomatic corp, based out of Santa Barbara so she could be close to her daughter and grandson. After Felicity Giametta-Grant succumbed to ovarian cancer, she had stepped down from her position and returned to Sicily, converting her villa into a traveler's inn. The woman had aged well, the only visible betrayal of her true age being the pure silver of her hair.

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. California Senator and Former Governor Fitzgerald 'Big Jerry' Grant Jr.'s son. Only child. Studious with a bit of a wild streak, nothing too bad. Not a playboy. Romantically, he had been firmly attached to Millicent Vaughn for years (under duress, it seemed) until the blueblood little princess had blatantly, unrepentantly cheated on him. She had made a big public show of apologizing after her 'indiscretion' fell through, even convincing the boy's father to take her side in the matter. Eli had expected the boy to fall in line. He was pliable like that, especially to the whims of his force of nature father. Everyone had expected a Grant/Vaughn reconciliation and a big public spectacle of a wedding to rival the Royal Nuptials.

The abrupt departure of the boy from the CONUS with all the cash in his bank accounts and what he could carry had been a surprise to all, especially when the boy refused to rise to the various baits his father laid out to get him to come home. It was one of Cyrus Beene's main sources of complaint material when they got together at the top of the month. Big Jerry was ablaze with indignation against his rogue puppet and was constantly threatening to disown him. Of course, the political optics of his position and the near militant stance on family values the Republican party held prevented it but still. In response, the boy had cut off all direct communication with the Senator and made it clear that he was not going to be told what to do any longer, regardless of his father's power and influence in the country. He was going to move across the country and take the Bar to go into law as a permanent career. He wanted nothing more to do with Millicent Vaughn or political capital or any aspect of politics in general, sending the Media into a tailspin.

The Grant family had been in some form of politics since the days of FDR. Would Fitzgerald III really turn his back on all that tradition, all that legacy? Would the Grant Dynasty end with Big Jerry and if so, would there be a fight to the death about it?

Apparently, yes. And now, Olivia was caught up with the boy in some sort of relationship, presenting a bit of a dilemma.

Through his People, he had kept track of her and the boys she had decided to entangle herself with. Harrison Wright, David Rosen, and Huck were deemed harmless. They were platonic friends or in Rosen's case, frenemies and they were near fanatically loyal to her in their own ways. Edison Davis had started out as a promising candidate but had faltered into an emotionally manipulative, immature brat that needed to be shut down. Had Olivia not done it herself and so well, Eli would've taken the matter into his own hands. Or rather, Brown's hands. One of the sick fuck's specialties was engineering car 'accidents' and 'malfunctions'.

Eli honestly wasn't sure what to make of the Grant boy as a suitor or as a person in general. Until recently, he seemed to be just another silver spooned senator's spoiled son, wrapped up in a cushy cocoon of racial and financial privilege. Yet, there was obviously more to him if he caught Olivia's attention, more than anyone had foreseen. Perhaps, the boy had been severely underestimated over the years. Grant seemed to be respectful towards women, even when they treated him terribly and that was a strong point in his favor. Olivia could easily cull him, if she wished. But, would she wish to? After all, there were their…Dynamics to consider. Olivia was not the submissive type in her every day dealings (something that was mainly from Maya, if he were completely honest) but behind closed doors? If Grant did permanent harm to her, broke her down…

He was getting ahead of himself. Eli didn't even have proof that the Grant boy was the one who had bitten her, touched her. And there was no indication of a relationship at all, if he was the one. It could just a minor summer fling, something naughty to check off of a bucket list and to giggle about with her girlfriends…

He would get solid proof.

He would watch closely.

He would wait patiently and be measured in whatever response became necessary.

After all, Eli hadn't gotten to where he was, survived where he was for as long as he had being reckless.

_**/**_

"So, do you have a safeword?"

"Glenlivet. It's my father's favorite kind of scotch."

"You really don't have a very good relationship with him, do you?"

"Absolutely not. I mean, he gave me life and he took care of me materially when I needed help but other than that, he's just…he has an idea of who I should be and it's the complete opposite of who I want to be. He sees me as weak, inferior, someone who needs to be pushed and molded into something acceptable to the masses. He had a life plan all laid out for me to follow and once I went 'off script'…"

"…he lost his use for you."

"Exactly."

" I already hate him."

"Livvie, you haven't even met him."

"I know I haven't but if he can treat his son like dirt for daring to be decent and wanting independence, then he's nobody I want to be bothered with. Plus, Naomi abhors him and as sweet as she is, if she hates you, then you've really failed at being a human being."

"Point. You know, if…if we're going to do this, then we'll have to deal with him eventually. I'm not going to hide you from him, even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to keep you far away from him. He just…he sucks, Liv."

"Hey, if I can survive 22 years of Eli Pope's loving brand of fatherhood, then I can survive anything."

"You've got Daddy issues, too?"

"With a capital D-I. It's pretty much a variation of the same theme with you and your dad only I'm certain that in his own way, in what's left of his heart, he loves me. And I'm about 60% sure that he's actually proud of me, sometimes. 60% may be a low 'D' on the scale but it's passing, you know?"

"I know…so, yeah. Glenlivet is my safe word and other than the standard bodily fluids that are exchanged during sex, I'm not into it. Especially blood play. Please don't do that to me, Olivia."

"You don't have to worry about any of that. I mean, everyone's tastes are different but there are some things that are just nasty. And blood play scares the hell out of me. What's your favorite sex position?"

"Any one that involves you."

"I'm serious, you smooth honey tongued bastard."

"So am I."

"Fitz, this is important. Communication is key to any relationship but it's even more important when there's Elements involved. We need to know each other's limits and what really gets the other off, what makes the other feel safe and wanted. BDSM is supposed to be a mutually beneficial and satisfying dialogue and…what?"

"Nothing. I just like hearing you talk, especially about this. Have you considered teaching a class?"

"No, I haven't. I'm still new to this in execution, after all. Seriously…what's your favorite sex position and why?"

"Ooh, an essay question. Do I get a gold star if I answer it correctly, Professor Pope?"

"Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III…"

"Okay, okay…don't laugh but it's missionary."

"Why would I laugh? Missionary's nothing to laugh at."

"I don't know. It just seems so boring."

"Not if it's done right. Why's it your favorite?"

"There's a lot of closeness, a lot of opportunity for eye contact and there's easy access for kissing. And I love the way you feel underneath me. Your turn."

"I like being taken from behind best. There's just something primal there that hits all my buttons. And I love how you feel behind me."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really… do you mind getting behind me again right now? I mean, if you're interested in extra credit..."

The naughty grin he gave her in response sent a surge of molten heat straight to her Gut.


	5. Chapter 5

**Current Author's Note: OH, MY FUCKING GAWD, THE PART OF THE PROMO THAT ACTUALLY MATTERS! "You can't leave me. I'm not losing you again." I know that it's Season 3 and I know that we've been disappointed and pissed off a lot so far but…but…I am 4, 5, and 6ever here for Fitz and I swear to God and on all things chocolate, if Olivia runs again without an actual good, relevant reason, I'm gonna…**_**shee-it**_**. And furthermore, Love Triangle, my black ass! Ain't no fucking love triangle around these parts and I can count on less than half a set of titties the people who are actually here for Captain Creeper and his O-how-bout-NO potential. The majority speaks and speaks this loud decree: "OLITZ IS ENDGAME AND A HUNDRED MOTHERFUCKAS CAN'T TELL ME NOTHIN'! WE WANT OUR OTP LIKE PEOPLE USED TO WANT THEIR MTV, GODDAMN IT!" Ms. Rhimes and her enablers better recognize and quit dicking around because this is just…damn. Is it February 27****th****, yet? Holy fucking shit…**

**Original A/N: I'm looking forward to Friday. Friday is not only pay day (and that means I can add to my savings), it's also the day before discount candy and bras become available. If you celebrate, have a good weekend, single or not, and be safe, sane, and consensual like our heroes. I'm still taking requests/suggestions for their Antics in this fic and another update for **_**Shattering**_** will be up soon.**

**Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"**

**One Month Later…**

"Every time I come here, this place looks better and better."

"Well, I have impeccable taste."

"_**Modest**_."

"It's true, though. Otherwise I wouldn't be with you, now would I?"

He really was a smooth honeyed tongued bastard when he put his mind to it. And he really did have good taste. Most men wouldn't know home décor unless it came with a strip-o-gram instruction manual and even then, they'd end up using old toilet seats as a centerpiece. His apartment was a spacious three bedroom, two and a half bath in Georgetown. Hardwood floors, fireplace, fully stocked kitchen that he actually used, a mile deep claw-foot tub in the master suite…it was a bachelor pad but an advanced one. He had things like throw pillows, afghans, actual curtains, and coasters. There were framed Ansel Adams photos on the walls near the large windows and knickknacks on the fireplace mantle. The furniture was oak and leather, the walls painted a rich shade of purple with white trim. He even had a living, thriving ficus plant next to his workspace. There was an impressive collection of vinyl records on a rolling rack, a black record player nearby. On the hallway walls were paintings by Warhol, Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet…her Fitz was eclectic without being obnoxious about it. She liked that. Edison had been as exciting as painting walls (unless it was splatter art, of course) and had a set way of doing things, a set way of looking at things. He wasn't one for spontaneity, variety…passion. Warm, vital, nurturing passion. Edison's had been textbook and still managed to be repressed, proper…

"You look so beautiful. Are you sure that we have to go out tonight?"

In the immediate aftermath of her disastrous 18 month relationship with Charles Putney, Abby had invited her on a summer long road trip, the pair of them ending up in Albuquerque, New Mexico after 3 weeks. The warm weather and the very nice B &B Olivia had found had them staying. While Abby had decided to stay mainly at the B&B (and get to know a certain then junior lawyer in the biblical sense), Olivia had ended up deep in the arts and dance scene there. She had relearned the salsa and tango before getting a crash course in the basics of flamenco. She had gorged herself on seminars on how to make topaz jewelry and a silk painting class.

The cap sleeved, scoop necked dress she was wearing was the final result of that silk painting class. It was black and she had done a motif of white vines and bloomed warm colored orchids to fill the bottom that stopped just past her knees. A pair of sparkly silver classic heels matched the small bow she had put in her wavy coils and other than eyeliner, the only makeup she had on was a rich plum lipstick. She looked beautiful and more importantly, she felt beautiful: confident and strong.

That would be important for what she wanted later…

"It was _**your **_idea, remember? 'Livvie, your friends are important to you so I should get to know them. I don't want them to think I'm a spoiled, silver spooned Senator's spawn asshole until they _**after**_ they meet me'", she quoted verbatim in a passable imitation of his soft baritone.

"I did say that and I meant it, really. It's just…you…I just…you're…I'm…_**damn it**_!"

How he had gotten around the counter so quickly was a mystery to her but she decided to ignore it in favor of running her hands through his hair. His kisses were both gentle and undeniably needy. One of Fitz's hands slid underneath her dress and she shuddered with delight as his fingertips skimmed over her satin covered sex. Her right shoe fell off as her back made contact with the nearest wall and she could feel her toes curl as his left hand gripped her neck and jaw in his signature way. His cerulean slate gaze was molten and fevered as he looked deep into her eyes before roughly burying his face in her neck. The kisses were featherlight and interspersed with slow, kitten like licks with the tip of his tongue against her neck. That was new, a bit odd but overall, _**quite**_ nice…

"_You make me so fucking __**insane**__._", he confessed as he nuzzled her. "_Naked, clothed, talking, quiet…Jesus, all you have to do is stand next to me and I'm a goddamned mess. What the hell have you done to me, woman? And I swear if you do it to some other bastard, you won't be able to sit for a week!"_

"**_You'll have to catch me first._**", she taunted with a yelp after his hand impacted hard with her ass.

His hips rolled roughly against hers and his fingers pressed harder against the crotch of her panties, prompting another shudder of pleasure. Forget what the hell had she done to him, what the hell was he doing to her?

"_Would you like that, sweetheart? You want me to chase you?_"

A surge of heat went through her veins at the very idea of that. Fitz hunting for her, wanting her, aching for her…an image of her running from him, hiding from him, letting him find her, take her…all she could do was shiver and nod eagerly. Slowly, he eased himself away from her and she answered his sultry smirk with one of her own.

"I'll keep that in mind, then."

_**/**_

"You really care about her, don't you?"

Silently, he nodded and listened to her hearty laughter at the story David Rosen and Harrison Wright were tag-team telling bout their latest socialite client. Rosen and Wright were an exclusive law firm, specializing in divorce and the drama that sometimes came along with it. With tech support from Huck and Quinn Perkins, they had become essential in the DC Metro area, indispensable really…

"When she first told me about you two, I was really happy. I mean, her last boyfriend was a total piece of shit. He never put his hands on her or anything like that but he treated her like a child, like someone who needed a big strong man to survive the dark woods. I didn't like the way he talked down to her and dismissed her dreams. Fucker. I'm glad your harpy of an ex is stuck with him. Or is he stuck with her? Mutual stuckness…hmmm…"

The redhead next to him was Abby Whelan, owner of 'Cinnamon', another go-to in the area for desserts, both health conscious and otherwise. Her work had been featured at a State Dinner and she was completely bereft of a brain/mouth filter. Instead of being offended, Fitz found her refreshing. Like with Olivia, her best friend, her entire group of friends had a complete lack of airs. 'This is me, this is us, this is it, love it or loathe it but you _**will **_respect us…damn it'. The time at the jazz club had been pleasant and David invited all of them back for a nightcap. While they weren't hostile to him, they did have a bit of wariness and Fitz understood. Olivia had been hurt before and he was a Grant man. Grant men were known for two things: politics and sex, especially sex that didn't involve the person they were officially involved with.

He made a mental reminder to give his father a thank you punch in the throat next time he saw him, which would be soon, he figured. His father had contacts everywhere and he had to know that he was back in the CONUS by now.

"And I like you. I like you with Liv. I wasn't expecting to actually like you…", she mused while setting up another shot of Jack for herself.

"My dad's the asshole Republican nightmare. I'm just…me. I can be an asshole and a nightmare, sometimes, though."

"Everyone can but you're like really nice. Like unreal nice. You're not a serial killer or something, are you? I don't want you snapping and we all end up in one of those tragic **ID Discovery** segments…"

"If I snapped, I'd go after my dad. And maybe Millicent."

"Nah, you wouldn't go after her. She's going to be a Mommy Dearest now and you wouldn't want to take her away from her kid. Plus, if she weren't all slutty, icy and bitchy, then you wouldn't have left America and met Liv and that would've sucked because you're cool. You treat her right and you don't think we're freaks. Davis did. He was always trying to keep Liv from hanging out with us. He actually said that we were a 'negative influence'. We totally are but if Liv wants to be negatively influenced, then no one should take that decision from her."

"Damn straight. And as long as you guys don't get locked up for something serious and she shoots me an 'I'm alive' text every once in a while, there's no static on my end. You're her friends and her family and you were in her life first. That shouldn't be messed with."

"…seriously, you're fucking unreal and Liv's a lucky ass bitch to have snagged you. I'm gonna go sit on David's lap. He likes that, especially when I'm naked…hey, Liv. I'm gonna go sit on David's lap. He likes that, especially when I'm naked and drunk."

"Abby, please don't get naked yet and no more alcohol for you until the pizza gets here .", Olivia replied with a fond shake of her head.

"Okay. Later, lovebirds…"

_**/**_

"…Livvie?"

She kept her breathing slow and deep, feeling the sexual tension in the room rise as he slid his bedroom door shut. Her front to him, she was kneeling on the large plush white carpet at the foot of his bed, eyes loosely shut. Her hands were behind her back and her head was slightly bowed, waiting for him to…

A tender hand went to her left cheek and when his fingertips skimmed over her lips, she kissed them, shivering with both nerves and need. Although their sex life was as lively as ever, they hadn't done a full Scene together yet. Their romps in the Villa had been more of a feeling out sort of thing (in more ways than one…) and there had been more conversations. While both of them were willing to switch, Olivia confided that her tastes were geared more towards the submissive side of BDSM. She was intrigued by the dynamics there. Yes, she was being pinned against the wall or the mattress. Yes, she was being spanked. Yes, she was being tied up or down. Yes, she was being told when, how and where to move, when to come for him, but at the end of the day, the submissive had all the control.

All she had to say was ' Liberty' or use one of the '_**stop**_' gestures they had agreed upon and he would in an instant. She was putting her full trust in Fitz not to harm her physically or emotionally. She had never put her full trust in anyone before, not even while her mother was living, and that was challenging…

Olivia was never one to back down from a challenge.

"Open your eyes and look up at me, sweetheart."

She obeyed and watched as he went to his knees in front of her. His hands spanned her middle and pulled her back away from the foot of the bed, taking her hands. He was still fully clothed, except for his socks and shoes. Her white satin bikinis remained on her body, the only other clothing being a pair of snow white knee socks. Slowly, he leaned forward and she accepted his kisses happily, deepening them and suckling on his lower lip as he reluctantly pulled away for air.

"How would you like me to play with you tonight, Olivia? What do you want?"

"I want you in my mouth."

"What part of me? There are a lot of…", he started to tease.

"I want to suck your cock. I want to feel you throbbing and pulsing in my mouth, the back of my throat. I want to run my tongue over you, taste you, kiss you…I want to suck you dry and lick you clean, Fitz. **I want you in my mouth.**"

A visible shudder of delight went through his body at her explicit plea and he stood up quickly, pulling her to her feet.

"_**Take off your panties.**_", he commanded ferally.

The satin was pulled down and kicked towards the chair where her clothing and overnight bag rested. A rush of cool air touched her and she rubbed her thighs together, trying and failing to temper the aching she felt. She wanted him in her mouth. She wanted him in her hands. She wanted him inside her…

"Undress me."

With shaking fingers, she undid the buttons of his white and blue pinstriped shirt. As the cotton fabric parted, she let her fingertips go over his warm skin, the springy friction of hair welcome to her as always. Her eyes greedily took in the shifting muscles of his form as she slid the shirt off and let it hit the floor. Next came his belt, the black leather holding some of his body heat and she folded it in half before placing it on his dresser. She wasn't ready for that sort of spanking yet but perhaps the leather would make a return as a restraint later on…

As she unzipped his dark wash jeans, she was surprised to feel nothing else separating her from his nakedness. He had been walking around without underwear this whole time? How hadn't she noticed that? How had she not felt that?

"Lay down on the bed. Head at the end. Make sure that you can see the mirror."

Wanting to inflame him further, she kept her movements slow but sultry, giving him a clear view of her throbbing, dripping sex as she settled into the California king. Grabbing a pillow, she let her head hang over, her hair brushing the floor. The bed shifted and she watched in the full length mirror as he came close to her, his fingers toying with her nipples gently as he positioned himself.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?"

Her tongue trailed up his twitching member slowly, curling underneath the head of him before giving it a small kiss. With a groan, Fitz slid between her parted lips and both of them shuddered as she met him halfway. Her hands reached up and found his inner thighs, stroking them lightly. Olivia moaned at the taste of him, clean and salty sweet and set to work, her pussy quivering with pleasure by proxy.

Slow licks made him shiver. Fast licks made him pant. Her hands were still on his thighs, stroking them harder as his hips rocked and rolled against her. His deep thrusts were steady and had just enough force, not too soft but not too hard to make her gag, to make her hurt. Her tongue danced over him and through heavily lidded eyes, she saw his head go back in rapture.

"…_fuck, you feel so good…don't stop, sweetheart…**please** don't stop…god, Livvie__**, yes!**_"

Having found what she was looking for, Olivia redoubled her efforts, spurned on by his pleasured shouts and she moaned around him, nuzzling against his pelvis. One of her hands went to his tightening sac and caressed him fondly, urging him to let go, to come for her, to fill and fulfill her…

"_**Olivia!**_"

His hands buried in her hair and she raised her head, feeling his hips pound and the tension leave his body. She drank deeply of him, relishing the musky sweet taste of his thick seed. Fitz was sweaty and panting harshly for air, groaning and twitching as aftershocks went through his body and mind. Olivia tongued him up and down, making sure not to waste a drop of him and she pulled away with a kiss, trying to get her own breath back. Fitz dismounted her and helped her sit up, hugging her to his chest. She curled against him and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw as they rocked slightly together.

"…_did you like that?_", she rasped.

He kissed her brow and raised her head so she could look into dazed cerulean slate eyes.

"Sweetheart, that was _**amazing**_…I've never come like that before. I thought I was going to die…"

A deep shot of warmth went her at that and she smiled at him, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.

"I'm glad…I never…I mean, I have before but never…I wanted you in my mouth. I wanted to make you feel good. It felt like something special, not just something that I'm supposed to do."

Fitz kissed her softly and tenderly stroked the side of her neck as he laid her down…

"_Fitz?_", she gasped as his lips began to descend her body, her legs going over his shoulders firmly, his fingers opening up her sex…

"…_your turn, Livvie._", he purred as he leaned in for a deep french kiss.

She screamed and held onto his hair.

Oh God, _**yes**_…


End file.
